Before They Were Saints
by Isis1
Summary: A Boondock Saints fic. Travel back to Ireland, when Connor and Murphy MacManus were in school. You cannot really believe that they were Saints back then, can you?


The day was as alabaster as the moone's pallid face; her pallour could   
make translucence frown. Children danced in delightful cheers as recess was   
called to be. Blankets of silence swallowed seas of youth, for never were   
they happier to have the frigidness scar their flesh, while bringing life   
to their minds. It was school that plagued every child who attended, to   
their homes and beyond - so, when it was let out - peace - at long last a   
tranquil existence of play and laughter. For, at recess, though, they   
could have both, and so much more. A child impatiently awaits the schoolmaster   
to ring a bell to release - first time - recess - second time - end of the day   
- most adored, and profound - on a Friday, or long holiday weekend.   
  
It was in the boys restroom, where Connor MacManus stood with a flint   
rock in his hands, scratching a cross upon one of the far walls. His brother   
Murphy, on his knees, looking under the foot high opening from below the   
swinging door. This was how it would always be - Connor the first to   
ignite the fire that which drove both of them to put complete faith in   
the Lord - and unquestionable faith in the "bad things" they did. But,   
it was in harmless intention - for the most part, at least. They like   
laughing - especially at the expense of others - so then what else could   
they do, but run a muck everywhere - even at home. The cross that was   
now a deathly shade of white on the stained grey brick walls, stood out   
- complete and alluring.   
  
"Are ye fuckin' done yet, Connor? I feel lik' I'm tryin' to look up a girl's dress!"   
  
Connor kneeled and 'twined his fingers in a praying position -   
Murphy joined him. They had decided to make a place for prayer - after   
all they did need to be forgiven for what they did - and waiting to be   
confessed was just too long for their impatient youthful nature. A   
shared prayer, muttered uneasily in synchronized, low voices. If   
anyone caught them - they would be for sure expelled for defacing   
the wall - even if it was a sign of loving faith.   
  
Murphy was the first to rise - his brother blessed himself, and   
together they kissed the newly formed cross. Connor rose and they gazed   
upon the image. It was simple, indeed - overly simple, in fact, yet it   
brought them comfort. Even if there were bodies of Christ strewn about   
the school, one could never pray to it, or ask forgiveness aloud, especially   
with some of the things they had done. Quite frankly, they were surprised   
that they were still allowed to even set foot in the damnable school - where   
the masters were the demons that were vented upon every Sunday - so, the   
demons took holde the learning institute, while God lingered in the hearts   
of the bullied, smaller children.   
  
Then, simultaneously, they both decided to leave - walking to the   
door that swung either way. Connor stepped forth onto the ivory flakes   
first - his brother followed swiftly - they were as one. Suddenly, Connor   
held up his hand, Murphy was stopped by his brother's arm on his chest.   
  
"You do 'dat anyway,"   
  
Chuckling loudly, Connor playfully ruffled Murphy's hair. He   
frowned, confusedly - then it struck him, he comment from before. Coming   
to his sense - sense of defense - he pushed the blonde haired boy. Then,   
she walked by with a few friends following her heels. They were astounded   
that she did not even stop to greet them - that is what she did every   
aftrenoone - what was different today? She looked back, allowing her   
two friends to walk on ahead of her - her pace was slowed, yet she   
followed the two girls now. Maeve McGee offered a wink to the boys,   
which let them know that it had begun.   
  
In this school it was strictly divided, for not because of the   
masters, or the head master for that matter - the children themselves.   
The boys were all deathly afraid of the few girls that attended - and   
in turn the girls looked down upon all the "scum" that lingered. And,   
some came from upstanding families - but a girl's father warns his   
daughter of boys - whether his father be the grandest man in all of   
Ireland, "Ye stay away from him!"   
  
On the wall of the school is where the girls stayed - they clung   
to each other, laughing and pointing at caper's antics. Only thirteen   
girls ladled the learning institute - they were all as close as sisters.   
They had to be, they did - because if one strayed, surely he would harm one . . .   
  
On his cue Aengus Cleary made his appearance from behind the boys   
bathroom. A wave of smoke followed them briefly - Aengus flicked his   
cigarette across the school yard. Two of his "lackies" followed swift   
on either side - they were as big as they were wide, blocking anyone's   
chance at trying to get by. Though, play went on - a quiet laughter   
broke out - eyes gazed upon the three giants - they thought it was   
their job to make other's lives living, breathing infernos.   
  
They passed the twins, brushing past them roughly. Murphy and   
Connor, who liked every Irishman they ever met, turned their nose up at   
these demon-boys. It had been months since the last incident - they did   
not want to start another quarrel. For, it was looking more, and more   
like they would have to do something soon, with every ungraceful, heavy   
step toward "the girls."   
  
Maeve was the leader of the thirteen, though this knowledge rarely   
spoken about - all knew. When they all stood in a circle, it was quite easy   
to see that she held their attention. Whether it be the latest raunchy joke,   
which incited may a giggle and blushing. She even imitated the masters, and   
passer-bys would keel over in laughter. For the most part, when in a circle,   
Maeve would stand in the medial, so twelve other bodies covered what she was   
doing.   
  
She was the one the youngre girls from the grade school across the   
street, modeled themselves after. And, not of her beauty, because she was   
not beautiful - adorable was the word that she heard. Quite easily was she   
the tiniest girl at the school - short - ruby red hair - and emerald green   
eyes. To the twelve other girls, she was lucky - lucky because she had the   
will - the courage to be able to walk up the MacManus brothers and start a   
conversation with them.   
  
Common knowledge to all the students - especially the female genre -   
the MacManus boys were the handsomest boys that graced that "bloody damnable"   
school. It was their names one would find scrawled in notebooks in hearts -   
adorance. And, to top it off, the both Connor, and Murphy had no inkling to   
how they were sought after. Because if they did, many a skirt would have been   
chased insistently. Their mind set was, that the girls hated them because they   
were not "goode" enough.   
  
So, it was that Maeve felt the need to converse with these boys one   
day. And, never once did she regret it - but at times she had pondre, "There   
going to get me expelled." For, it was all in goode fun, they all supposed.   
The tiny tricks played on the other students, and even at times the masters.   
But, no one - no one - talked - they would turn in one of the three - it would   
too dull to stand the cell of masters with tree limbs.   
  
Aengus Cleary was in no mood to be stopped by some little prats that  
traveled directly in front of him - his goons pushed them aside. The giant   
of a boy thudded he way directly to Maeve - he stopped in front of her, snow   
making a sickeningly crunching sound as he ceased his movements. She calmly   
turned from one of her friends, to Aengus. She briefly acknowledged him -   
swiftly went back to chattering away.   
  
This spiteful action should have blown his head away - made him loose   
his temper which was all ready flared up. Any other person grasping aloofness   
as she was at this moment, would have all ready been crying for mommy - it was   
girl - Maeve was girl - Aengus reminded himself. He jabbed her chest a few times,   
scarcely missing her breasts. This made her give complete attention the challenger.   
Glancing between the gaps of the ape-men, she saw Murphy and Connor MacManus walking   
toward them - she shook her head. Aengus did not take notice - he was completely   
enthralled with getting what was coming to him.   
  
"Where is it?"   
  
"Where's what?"   
  
Aengus sighed, his patience deteriorating second by second. He nodded   
toward his goons, the departed with little hesitation. He then broke his   
attention to the girls standing closest to Maeve. He sneered, which made   
them cowrie and scurry away. He scoffed, triumphantly - that is what he   
thought all women should do - run away like beaten dogs.   
  
"Dunna' fuckin' fuck wit' me - I know ye took it,"   
  
His voice was hushed so that no one would here what he was discussing   
with her. Maeve feigned disinterested, for in fact she was about to burst out   
laughing. She knew exactly what he was talking about, but she was the only one   
that could have done - any other would have surely got caught, or stuck - which   
ever came first.   
  
"Oh," she stretched the word like the Shannon River, "I do believe what   
ye be lookin' for - is 'dat up 'dere."   
  
She pointed toward the flag pole - and low and behold - a pair of green   
underpants blew heavenly, right beside Ireland's flag. So, then everyone that   
had been watching intently, followed her hand with their gaze. Unanimously,   
the steelyard was in bellowing laughter. Crimson could nerve describe Aengus'   
colour of skin at the very moment - because all the shades of red and pink flew   
by on the visible flesh. Maeve snickered loudly, holding her sides - she was   
in stitches.   
  
Connor and Murphy walked up to her, standing on either side - they knew   
it would be soon that Maeve would need help and company in recovery. Murphy   
laid his left arm around her, hugging her - he surely would have fallen if he   
had not been leaning on her - he was laughing to hard, while trying to talk.   
  
"Aye, 'tis a lovely thing - to be seein' the wavin' o' the green!"   
  
His brother let more ripples of amusement filter through the air - he   
leaned on her too. The short girl, held the brother's weight with grace, she   
was stronger than she looked - a fact that saved her in fight more times than   
coffee on a colde day.   
  
"Murphy," Connor said, with a snort, "wouldn't ye say that - green underpants   
would be a lovely new flag?"   
  
"Aye - and maybe we can add his Father's crumpets!" answered Murphy.   
  
"The British piece of shite!" Maeve spat.   
  
Virgin laughter tittered from her throat, which made the MacManus   
brothers laugh all the harder. The three nerve saw it coming - Aengus pushed   
her back - she fell on her arse - then, he punched Murphy first - Connor last.   
And, he was upon Maeve - one goode punch did he get in, before the brothers had   
pulled him by his ears, hair, and arms off of her. They would never be able to   
recall the moment, because crimson dripped before their vision - pure, unadulterated   
rage ripped through their Irish blood that ran as deep as Cuchalain furrow in his brow.   
  
There were screams of "fight - fight," varied with shouts of "kick his arse,   
Connor/Murphy." Maeve sat, the girls surrounding her, trying to get her to hold her   
head back - her nose was bleeding. But, she did not want to listen the simpering one   
around her - she wanted to see "her boys." This last thought made her close her eyes   
- she had nerve referred to them as hers before. For, she decided at that valourous   
moment, Connor and Murphy were hers - they had defended her - and would have stopped   
the devil himself if he had tried to take her.   
  
  
  
The head master sat behind his desk, back turned to the three. Maeve   
was in the middle - she was always in the middle - Murphy on her right, Connor   
on the left. This was the moment they had dreaded - since boredom became an   
emotion that they could easily relate to. Each knew that their incessant need   
to reek havoc, either havoc or just plain, ordinary stupidness.   
  
"I expected this from, ye boys - but not you Maeve - I canna' believe . . ."  
  
"She didna' do it. We did, right Murph?"   
  
"Aye, sir - we ran Cleary's underpants up 'da flag pole!"   
  
He turned in his chair and looked, from Connor - Maeve - Murphy. Then,   
shook his head in disbelief. He did not believe them, that was for sure - but   
if one confessed - there had to be goode reasoning for taking the head from this   
one. The head master knew that Aengus' Cleary's parents would want blood for   
this - blood or expelling. Aengus was bloody, three ways from Sunday, he was   
injured severely.   
  
"Ye two boys, got to 'da pole,"   
  
He took in the lithe boys appearance - it was not so terribly   
hard to believe that they could have actually raised the underpants.   
It was how they got to it in the first place. There was the back door   
in this very office that gave access to the raising of the flag. One   
would have to crawly under the fence to get to it - the only other way.   
  
"Aye, sir,"   
  
"No. Ye didn't - she did," he pointed at Maeve.   
  
She was about to say it was her, Connor clamped his hand over her   
mouth. They looked at the older man - pleading, begging him with hardened   
eye to believe them. Both brothers could not let Maeve take this fall -   
it was their idea - their idea. She became Doe-eyed - blinking - innocent   
in her entire posture.   
  
"Sir, if ye haven't noticed - Maeve here, nose's if bloody. Where do   
ye think 'dat came from?"   
  
He looked at her nose - to Connor who had just spoken the words.   
The head master pondered more - what was he to do? Obviously, Cleary had   
hurt the girl, and she had obviously been the one who had incited such anger   
from the three boys. He sighed, rubbing his temples. How would he get out   
of this one? He could not just let the boys go, or Maeve free.   
  
"What am I to do, boys - pretend I didn't catch ye beatin' 'da hell out of Cleary?"   
  
"No, sir," they answered together.   
  
"Then what, do ye propose?"   
  
"Expel, us," Murphy suggested, softly.   
  
"Aye, me and Murph - expel us two,"   
  
"No, I won't let ye . . ."  
  
Connor replaced his hand back her mouth, silencing her for goode   
that day. It was something that was inevitable - something that could   
nerve have been stopped. It was only a matter of time that they were   
out of school - a few more years, at least. Maeve felt strangely sore   
and lamentful as the head master pull up the papers - the brother's   
Mother was all ready on the way - what a sight that would be to see   
her try to strong hand him. For, it was not to be - Maeve was sent   
back to class - "her" boys would have to suffer alone - alone and silent.   
  
  
  
Maeve McGee sat on the dock, between Murphy and Connor MacManus.   
She had her legs pulled up beneath her chin, while they idly swung theirs   
to and fro. All three had not spoke one word since the brothers had gone   
to Maeve's house and tolde her they were running away to Americay. With a   
suitcase each, they had packed all their worldly possessions - without a   
backwards glance Marie had followed them to wait for the ship.   
  
She sighed, sorrowfully - she was not going, it was trip that they   
had to make by themselves. One day, Maeve knew, that they would be split   
up from each other. For, she had not thought so soon - in fact they had   
once spoke of going to Boston when school was finished - the trip was not   
to be - at least not for all three of them at the same time.   
  
The ship would linger for one hour - they had been sitting there on   
the wooden, near falling apart dock for fifty minutes. Each trying to make   
the time together last as long as possible. But, it was useless - time, the   
translucent thought flew swiftly in with the tide. Maeve stood first - if she   
had not, they would not have left that day. So, they followed her down toward   
the ship - head bowed in tormented lament.   
  
She turned to face them, emerald eyes reminding them of this land -   
this Erin. For almost the remaining ten minutes, they gazed upon one another.   
They each memorized every detail of one another's garments - features - even   
scents. Maeve took in the lustrous odour of Irish Spring soap coming from   
both boys - Connor's pools of blue eyes, along with angelic dirty-blonde hair.   
With Murphy she tolde herself that she would never see as deep dark blue eyes,   
and his hair that would make ebony cry out of jealousy.   
  
In turn, they could not bear to just look upon her, so they ran to   
her - embracing their friend. Maeve held them, as much as she could with   
her vertically challenged self - she held them as shards of glass like tears   
dripped onto their clothes. For once - the first time Murphy had ever made   
his brother follow his lead - he kissed Maeve. He put forth his notions of   
undying passion within this long delayed showing of affection. She could   
scarcely move, with one brother weighing down on her and the other so heavenly   
close.   
  
Then, he was gone - ran to the ship as quick as his lithe body   
could carry - he did not want her, or his brother to see tears. Connor   
held Maeve the longest - it was his strong will that kept his heart near   
hers and his feet on his native land. He would not forget that she   
smelled of Vanilla - everyday he would remind himself that her eyes   
were emerald, as emerald as Ireland herself - and her hair ruby - ruby.   
So, it was then that he treaded somewhere where his brother had been first   
- her lips. The remaining passion for life, drifted from his silken flesh   
to hers.   
  
He parted from her ever so full lips, lifted his case full of   
clothes and miscellaneous objects. Maeve kept her hand on his skin as   
long as she could - she prolonged it the more. And, would held Murphy   
longer, as well, if he was not so "damnable" quick. She gazed at his   
retreating back - the colour of the world black and white, as simply   
terrifying that one can get.   
  
"Connor!" she yelled.   
  
Connor made himself stop - one last time would he turn to gaze at   
her. As he set eyes on her, for another first, Maeve McGee appeared weak   
- solemn. He saw the glass drip down her cheeks, and to this he offered   
her a reassuring half-grin.   
  
"We'll come back for you - I swear," 


End file.
